


Aftermath

by sparkysparky



Series: Erica Reyes; This is Your Life [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Epilepsy, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:19:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkysparky/pseuds/sparkysparky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in some unspecified time post S2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

After, with the evidence of her rage strewn around her, Erica runs. She can’t handle the way Isaac looks like he wants to cry and the way Boyd looks like he wants to hit something. And Derek—fuck, Derek, who looked like she’d kicked him in the balls. The familiar sense of shame and embarrassment washed over her, familiar and unwelcome and she feels like she always did after coming back to herself after a seizure. Her heart is pounding, throat closed up, and angry tears burn her eyes. The difference is there’s no laughter, no catcalls, but it doesn’t make it better. 

She runs, out the door and down the steps. Into the woods, she thinks, like any good animal. She runs until her lungs are burning and she no longer feels like crying, or tearing trees apart. Defeated, she slumps to the ground, cold seeping through fabric of her jeans. She leans against a tree, pulls her knees to her chest, and tries not to think about what a fucking mess she is. 

It’s Stiles who finds her, not too long later. She hears him approach, can scent his regret and nervousness, but there’s no fear. He settles beside her and the weight of a blanket settles around her shoulders. A thermos is pressed into her hands, but for once he’s not babbling. The silence is nice, and she can feel her wolf calming the way it always does around him. It weirds her out, the way Stiles makes her feel. It’s the same way she feels around her Nana, safe and warm and loved. 

“You remember the beginning of eighth grade?” It’s the first thing Stiles says, and she looks at him incredulously because what the fuck does that have to do with anything and doesn’t answer. Stiles doesn’t seem concerned by her silence. “My mom had just died, and I hated the world. I stopped taking my pills, started fights at school. Got suspended.”

She did remember that. For two months in eighth grade, Stiles had been one of the Cool Kids. Mouthed off to teachers, and smoked in the bathroom. He’d been belligerent and mean, a complete departure from the kid she’d known since kindergarten. She remembered, but she didn’t have a clue why Stiles was talking about it now. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Stiles smiled slightly and went on. 

“For a few weeks I was at the top of the food chain. Guys wanted to be my friend and girls giggled when I walked by. I was a badass.” His tone is self-depreciating, and it makes her want to laugh. She doesn’t, because she can sense the seriousness beneath the tone. “Obviously it didn’t last. But it’s not because it couldn’t.” He caught her eye. “It’s because I didn’t want it to. Because I didn’t like me, so it didn’t matter that anyone else did. Because it wasn’t me they liked.” He didn’t say anything else after that, just placed a hand on her shoulder for a moment before standing. 

She watched him leave, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do with that.


End file.
